


“Am I still human, Elias?”

by 3_modes_Ace_Kat



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Dubcon Kissing, Elias being his usual creepy self, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Worship, just dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27144722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3_modes_Ace_Kat/pseuds/3_modes_Ace_Kat
Summary: Takes place after the end of ep 92. Another way that discussion could have gone
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	“Am I still human, Elias?”

“Am I… Elias, am I still human?”

Elias sighs “John, what does human even mean? I mean, really? You still bleed, you can still die. And your will is still your own, mostly. That’s more than can be said for a lot of the ‘real’ humans out there.” He can’t help but enjoy the utterly destroyed look that tries not to make itself obvious in John’s eyes.

“Very well. Do you want to be reminded what it means to be human, John? I can do that for you.” It’s a double edged sword of an offer, though John doesn’t know it yet. He’s haggard, wearing clothes that he’s clearly been borrowing from Georgie. A T-shirt and Ill fitting jeans. Elais can work with this.

The vulnerable stretch of John’s throat is a sight to behold from where Elias is looming over John, especially as it moves in a gulp.

“I... yes.” John’s eyes are bloodshot and almost on the verge of tears. He’s had a long day.

Elias leans over, taking his necktie off. “Ask nicely, John.”

There’s the edge of a growl in John’s voice “Yes, please Elias.” It makes the little squeak he utters as the necktie settles on the defenseless column of his throat all the sweeter.

“All right. Try not to yell.” The necktie tightens into a noose even as Elias swallows the scream the tries to escape in a kiss. John flails, or tries to, but Elias has always been much stronger than people give him credit for. He has no problems pinning his Archivist to the chair, bracketing arms with knees and settling comfortably in John’s skinny lap.

He releases the necktie and the kiss, letting John get a gasped breath of air before doing it again, twisting his hand so it’s more a collar than noose.

“Just breathe, John. You’re still human, you need to breathe.” John’s eyes are bulging, accusing, as if demanding to know how he can breathe when something is stopping him. Elias releases the noose again and watches in fascination as John gasps and gasps and gasps. There an almost audible click as he gets ready to scream but that’s swallowed again.

“Do you really want them to see you like this, John? I know you can still feel embarrassed. That’s human too, you know.”

“Let me go, Elias.” It’s soft, and edged with the the tingly/freeing sense of compelling.

“I made you a promise John, and I would be a bad boss if I didn’t follow through. Now, let’s begin.” The kiss is more violence then lust and Elias doesn’t stop, diving in again and again, bruising tired lips. He can feel the fight go out of John by degrees, until he’s pliant, trying to meld with the wood of the chair. He seems to have decided that acquiescence will make this easier. He is wrong.

“That’s better.”Now, now Elias can get to work. He pushes John’s jaw up, enjoying the play of muscle, before applying his mouth to that assailable neck. Feeling the scraped bruise that the necktie has left already is nothing compared to the desperate little gasps he can feel under his tongue as John fights for air again. Blood from the wound the Hunter gave him floods Elias’ mouth and it’s sweeter than any wine, and just as rich. He laves at the cut, in what should be a ridiculous parody of sucking on a wound to heal it closed. Instead, he tongues at the ragged edges of the cut, encouraging them apart.

John’s hands fly up to his shoulders and he tries again to push Elias off. It doesn’t work.

Instead, it makes Elias grab one of the hands, wrenching it down and holding it against the old wood of the chair arm.

“Monsters don’t obey John. I’m sure you can still do that. Can’t you?” And this time, Elias injects his own compulsion, forcing John to listen, to comply. The Archivist obeys reluctantly, but he does obey. Somewhere an eye opens, somewhere a tape recorder turns on.

“See, don’t you feel more human already, all helpless before a monster?”

Jon’s head wobbles, like he’s trying to shake and nod his head at the same time. It makes him look ridiculous, and Elias huffs a laugh at him.

“All pathetic and cowering before me. But you don’t see me as a monster, do you Jon? Or if you do, it’s still a very human one, with human traits. Let’s fix that. **Stay** ”

And Elias steps back, waiting a moment to make sure that Jon stays where he is put. One of Jon’s hands reaches up to tug at the tie, unconsciously mimicing Elias’ previous actions.

“Good. Good Archivist.”

Elias reaches for his own collar and slowly unbuttons his shirt. It’s a bit of a striptease, even if his audience is not in the exact frame of mind to appreciate it. He slips the shirt of his shoulders and drapes it around Jon’s neck like a scarf. The air shifts and shivers and Elias closes his eyes. And then he opens his eyes. Two, four, six, eight, many. They focus on Jon, who stares uncomprehendingly back at them. Elias leans forward into Jon’s personal space to let him have a better look.

“Humans worship gods, not the other way around. I think it’s time you met your deity, and did some worshipping of your own.” Elias suites actions to words; snagging the much abused tie from Jon’s hand, he uses it to draw Jon’s face to the eye at the base of his throat, nestled between the collar bones.

“ **Worship Me**.” And Jon’s mouth is on the skin around the eye at the base of Elias’ throat, placing delicate reverent kisses. The Eye shines, and Elias can feel the Archivist’s trembling lips as terrible knowledge floods him, overwhelming and implacable.

“You have the potential to be more, but right now, you are nothing more than a speck of dust trapped in a flimsy mortal shell. And that makes you oh so very human, my Archivist.” Elias whispers the words into Jon’s hair, like a benediction. Hands sink into the back of Jon’s neck, extending the bruise and deepening it. Even as Jon whispers terrors he has seen into the unyielding socket, Elias carves an eye, open and unblinking between the shoulder blades.

“Humans May be blessed by their deities. And we have chosen to bless you, my Archivist.” Elias tangles his hands into Jon’s hair, using it to draw him out of his safe space and to be forced to stare unwavering into Elias’s eyes. “Do you understand? You are still so very human, but you are still so very mine.”

Jon, foolishly, opens his mouth as if to assert or refute that statement. Elias laughs into Jon’s mouth, even as he claims it. This time, Jon doesn’t try to fight, instead leaning in a little.

“That’s right, Jon. I’m glad you know your position in this world.” Hands stop grasping and start carding through Jon’s hair, lulling him. So much has happened in the last day. Too much. “You are mine, and it’s time the others know it.”

“Y-yes. Yes Elias.”

“Yes Jonah.” Elias corrects him. Jon is too far gone to react properly, green mirroring acid green, even as the memory of this exchange washes away in the tides of Jon’s mind.

“Yes Jonah. I am yours.”


End file.
